But he didn’t move. He was memorizing the soft flesh of her buttocks in his hands, the delicious pressure of her enclosing him, and the strange certainty that this was right in some way.
Then she kicked off her shoes and pulled up her knees, bracing her feet on the edge of the bed so she could lever her hips upward to give him better access. Her movement incited him to action. He withdrew almost completely and then drove into her again, watching the pleasure wash across her face.
“Say my name,” he said, wanting to hear her voice.
“Trainor,” she murmured.
He pulled back and thrust in as he spoke. “Nathan.”
“Nathan.” It came out low and breathy, as though it was hard for her to pronounce.
He lost any coherent thought as she rolled her hips up into him, her muscles squeezing around him as she called his name again. The world blew apart around him, turned him inside out, and he bowed back, sending her name echoing off the ceiling.
He had just enough sanity left not to collapse directly on top of her. Dropping onto the bed, he hooked an arm around her waist and snugged her up against his side. He could feel tremors running through her as she came down from her second climax. “I envy you,” he said, his eyes closed.
“Because I had two orgasms and you only had one?” Her voice was drowsy with pleasure.
He huffed out a laugh. “Because you’re still feeling yours.”
“The gift that keeps on giving.” She snuggled closer to him, draping her thigh over his. “I guess women are luckier that way. We get an afterglow.”
“I feel entirely lucky right now,” he said, shaking the pins out of her bun again so he could comb his fingers through the golden-brown fall of her hair.
“Right now, I do too.”
He didn’t like the emphasis she put on right now.
CHAPTER 12
Chloe wanted to lie there for the rest of her life, mostly so she wouldn’t have to face the fact that she’d just had sex with a man she wouldn’t ordinarily even be on the same floor with. As his fingers toyed with her hair and satisfaction shimmered through her, she could pretend that the big male body she was plastered against was just a lover, although not an average one. He’d played her the way he played his computer—with a deft, sure touch that got him the results he wanted.
She splayed her hand on his chest and tried to memorize the texture of his warm, smooth skin and the rhythm of his heartbeat as it slowed to normal. She moved her nose closer to his shoulder to breathe in his entirely male fragrance, with its undertones of starch and expensive soap. Opening her eyes, she studied the fine lines at the corners of his closed eyes and the way his thick, straight lashes lay on his cheekbones. This close she saw that his nose had a slight downward curve to it, like an eagle’s beak.
She wanted to store all these tiny details about him in a treasured place in her memory so she could cherish them when he was gone. Because this couldn’t last.
In fact, she should make sure it didn’t last any longer than today. Or she would feel like something discarded.
She had a healthy sense of self-worth, but all she had to do was glance across the room to see the Van Gogh and the Gauguin on the wall. That kind of wealth changed your expectations of the people around you.
Not to mention his genius. Maybe her inventor father could have kept up with that incredible mind, but she’d graduated from community college. She loved to learn and she read constantly, but Trainor was light-years beyond her.
She must have unconsciously shifted because Trainor—no, Nathan—said, “I can feel you thinking, Chloe, and I want you to stop.”
She sighed. “I wish I could.”
He opened his eyes and turned his head toward her. “I guess I’ll just have to distract you.”
With that he brought his free hand to the thigh she’d rested on top of him and skimmed his fingers upward until he touched the spot that made her dig her fingers into his shoulder muscle.
Thought fled in the face of overwhelming sensation.
Eventually Chloe lay naked with an equally naked Nathan facedown beside her, his arm a heavy but delicious weight over her waist, in the aftermath of his distraction. Of course, the first thing that met her eyes was the pair of paintings. She went tense and shifted away.
His arm tightened around her. “You promised to make sure I get enough bed rest.”
Guilt jabbed at her. She’d completely forgotten he was recuperating from a serious bout of the flu. He certainly didn’t show any signs of it. “I’ve failed miserably because there has been no rest going on in this bed. Are you feeling all right?”
He pivoted both of them sideways so her back was spooned against his chest. Then he hauled the covers up over them. “Never better. Your powers of healing are miraculous. However, I could sleep for a while.”
“I should get back to work.” She regretted the words almost as soon as she spoke them. Having the bare length of him against her was heaven.
He hooked his leg around both of hers. “Sleep. Doctor’s orders.”
“Your doctor.”